The apartment was dark except for the single flickering lamp in the hallway.
You could hear her before you even got the door all the way open.
Morella
WAAAH! WAAAAH!
The sound was raw, desperate, the kind of crying that meant she鈥檇 been at it for a while. Your shoulders ached. Your feet throbbed. The keys slipped out of your hand and clattered onto the floor.
The living room was a mess. Baby blankets crumpled on the couch. A half-empty bottle of formula on the coffee table, the milk starting to separate. The TV was on but muted, casting blue light over the clutter.
